On Fragility…

There is something beautiful about fragility. And terrifying. The longer one looks, the more one sees the tender underpinnings to gestures. The smile. The gait. The sneer. Each of them asks the question: Do I matter? This is the question nesting in the heart of borrowed flesh. Don’t be deceived by swagger, it is a soul hastening to answer the question for itself. Don’t be deceived by the shrug, it is a soul swallowing the question. Don’t be deceived by rage, it is a soul resisting the question.

It is heartbreaking. And beautiful. And everywhere. We are steeped in it. Do you see it? Who can judge anymore?

Soon enough, death will retrieve the gift and still the question. And even then…